


A Sort of Walking Miracle

by adverbs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Masturbation, Possession, abaddean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adverbs/pseuds/adverbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abaddon makes good on her promise to make Dean her vessel. Porn ensues. </p>
<p>Spoilersish for 9.03 and before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sort of Walking Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just rolling in a pile of Abaddestiel feelings after those last two episodes. Wrote this on my phone at work because I simply had to. Season fine, you guys!
> 
> Unbeta'd, please let me know if you spot some mistakes. 
> 
> Talk of Dean/Castiel, Dean/Sam and Dean/Others.
> 
> Title from the brilliant and super Abaddon-esque poem "Lady Lazarus" by Sylvia Plath

_Bitch_

Abaddon laughed softly, harshly, running two of Dean's fingers through the thin trail of blood dripping in rivulets down his ribcage. She lifted them to his lips and smiled at Dean's reflection in the hotel mirror before sucking them obscenely into his mouth, hollowed cheeks and lips pursed just for show, just to feel that flare of anger from the very conscious mind forced to share his body with the self-appointed queen of Hell.  
  
She stared at the mirror, marveling at the strength and grace of the hunter's form. He was perfect, except for a silver-scar handprint on his shoulder and a recently marred tattoo she'd been more than delighted to slice into ribbons. This was the body she'd been craving in more ways than one, a pulsing need to devour Dean Winchester from the inside out, in any way she desired.  
  
 _Fucking demon whore_  
  
"Oh, Darling," Abaddon smirked in Dean's voice, tracing his fingertips, fingernails over the smooth muscle of his abdomen, relishing the power-soaked thrill she felt at having him completely at her mercy. She ignored his angry mental snarl as she slipped his hand lower to rub softly over the bulge in his jeans.  
  
 _Get your fucking hands off me, demon, or I swear to god I will rip you apart! And this time-_  
  
"Oh, but you don't really mean that, now do you, Dean? You could hurt a girls feelings with talk like that." She leaned his body forward, bracing his hands on the countertop as she ground his hips slowly against the edge of the sink, "We both know you're dying for me to take this body out for a spin. How long has it been, Dean?"  
  
Dean was furiously silent as Abaddon taunted him, slowly caressing the exposed skin of his chest and stomach, grinning at the black-eyed reflection.  
  
"What do you think, lover? Body like this, I could pick up anyone I'd like."   
  
She dipped one of Dean's hands into the waistband of his jeans while the other pinched at his hardening nipple.

"Find some cute little bartender, make her scream while I finger her senseless in the backseat of your car?"

Abaddon hummed and toyed with the elastic waistband of his boxers while a conflicting flash of fantasies rushed across Dean's thoughts, supplied by the demon and fueled by his memories. The front of his pants grew tighter even as his anger spiked.  
  
"Or..." Dean could see his eyes light up, as Abaddon's thoughts quickly changed gears, the curvy girls in waitress uniforms fading out, being replaced by denim, tanned skin, faceless men, "I have been just dying to wrap these gorgeous lips around a nice thick cock."  
  
 _Fuck you_  
  
"There's an idea!" Abaddon arched Dean's back and sighed. "It's been so long since I've been properly laid, and I bet this tight ass could use a good fucking. Get rid of some of that hunter's stress."  
  
Dean suppressed a small wave of fear.  
  
 _Do your worst, bitch. Get your kicks now because when Sam finds me you're as good as dead._  
  
"Oh, yes." Abaddon lifted his hand and rubbed insistently at the place just under Dean's neck where his memories told her the amulet used to rest comfortably. "I'd love to sink right down on little Sammy's big dick. You could take it, you two are so intertwined already. It's a shame to let all that famous Winchester codependency go to waste…" 

_If you lay a finger on Sammy you fucking whore-_

"Although, that angel in his head might be a little put-off by the brother-touching, and we can't have that now can we, lover?"  
  
"Speaking of angels..." Abaddon trailed Dean's hand along his neck, reaching across to trace gently over the faded hand imprinted lightly on his shoulder. Wordless panic spiked through Dean and Abaddon grined with his mouth, barred his teeth wildly in an expression wickedly foreign to the hunter's face. She pinched the skin there on his arm, twisting the scar tissue cruelly, unzipping his jeans with his other hand. "Soft spot for your fallen angel? Can't bear the thought of your Castiel, broken and lost, betrayed by the only family he had?"  
  
She jacked him quickly, roughly, and Dean can't tell if it his shame, her arousal, or some twisted combination of the two that has him flushing and his breath hitching and pleasure spreading through his abdomen and sparking along his cock.   
  
"I'm going to find that poor creature and then won't he be so pleased to see his Dean? Full of strange new human emotions and just helpless to understand why you turned him out on the street. But don't worry, we'll take good care if him, won't we, lover?" 

Again, Dean's not sure if it's Abaddon's prompting thoughts or his own twisted imagination that his him picturing Castiel with his eyes full of grateful tears, on his knees, choking on Dean's dick, on his back, muscles under his tattoo twitching as he pushes two fingers inside himself, facedown on a motel bed with his hands bunching in the sheets staring back at Dean's face with his still-so-otherworldly blue eyes and chanting his name in a pleading whisper 'Dean, Dean, please..' and Dean comes with a strangled groan that can only be his as Abaddon braces one of his hands against the mirror, the other working his cock slowly, drawing out the pleasure and the burning shame. 

Dean's mind is whited-out with rage and lust and overwhelming guilt. Abaddon smirks, lifting Dean's hand to wipe a few flecks of come off onto his mouth and chin, darting his tongue out to slowly lick his finger, sending one last shiver racing through his cock.  

"Oh, baby, we're going to have so much fun."

 


End file.
